


Reaching for Eternity

by Nanadaime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Chamber of Secrets AU, F/M, I feel so pretentious, Post-Chamber of Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 10:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11872086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanadaime/pseuds/Nanadaime
Summary: Ginny Weasley had been afraid of death. So she left her ghost behind. Tom Riddle had been afraid of death. So he cut his soul into pieces.





	Reaching for Eternity

Reaching for Eternity

Her first kiss had also been her last. When cold, soft lips pressed against hers and sucked her life greedily out of her she was hit with the crushing realisation that she did not want to die. Her brother and the green-eyed hero could not save her, trapped in a destroyed tunnel while she was trapped in the damp, dark chamber with the boy -monster- she had set free by giving him everything she was. And when there was nothing left of her and everything of him, she slipped into the abyss. But little Ginny Weasley was afraid of death. So she left an imprint of her soul behind. And her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever. And her soul will haunt her murderer forever. Death would have been kinder...

Tom Riddle was afraid of death. So he cut his soul into pieces. Tore it apart by committing murder and the vilest of the Dark Arts. One soul shard was trapped in a book, a diary. For how long he could not tell. But then there was ink on the yellowed pages and the scribbled words of a child. Tom always had been able to charm the people he needed and soon the little girl danced to his tune, killing roosters with her small and freckled hands. Dipping her fingers in blood and writing words on the walls of the castle. Hissing words she could not comprehend, commands rolling of her tongue and unleashing an ancient beast. And when he finally came out of the book, he could see the terror in her eyes. After so long he felt alive. He saw the girl was struck by his beauty and could not fathom how a boy so handsome could be equally terrible. She should not have been surprised. Lucifer was the most beautiful of all the angels after all. And when he gave her, her first kiss -her last kiss- he took from her what he always coveted for himself: life. Death would never touch him...

In an Albanian forest Tom found the main piece of his soul. Leeching on lower life forms, leaving a trail of death behind. When they rejoined one part of his soul was in his young and flawless body, the other in a snake. Snakes had always been his favourite animals. The two parts merged together, not whole -because Tom Riddle was afraid of death- and certainly not beautiful. The two parts meshed together like puzzle pieces that did not fit, like broken shards of glass from different mirrors. All sharp angles and distorted reflection. But they merged and gave Tom more power. He had always coveted power -nearly as much as he coveted life-. The beautiful shell remained only his eyes were tainted red now, giving a hint at the monster within, if one cared to look. The girl had not cared and paid the price. And Tom would paint the world red. Red like his eyes. Red like blood. Red like fire. Red like her hair.

When Ginny crawled out of the abyss the world had lost all colour. Her milky skin was grey, her brown freckles were grey and her fiery hair was grey. The forest around her was grey -and hadn't she been trapped in a chamber- and the boy who stood before her was grey. The boy -monster, murderer her mind supplied- looked at her and tilted his head a fraction to the right. When his mouth split open, what would have been pearly white teeth -but they were grey now- were revealed and Ginny knew that she was trapped again. And this time death's embrace could not free her.

She ranted and raved. Cried and begged. Tried to flee and fight. But she was only a reflection of what once has been and she was bound to the boy. He took her to a little village and into a cottage where half of the roof was missing. Beneath a crib he found a stick of yew. He broke the wand he had taken from the girl, broke it like he had broken the girl. And finally the girl was silent.

Ginny stayed silent. She told herself that she would observe Tom and his activities and maybe -hopefully- there would be a chance for her to escape their bond and return to her friends and family. A family of redheads -all tinged in grey now-, a girl with bushy hair, petrified -I'm sorry, Tom made me do it- and a boy with striking green eyes -but they would forever remain grey for her-. But deep down in her soul -or what was left of it- she knew that she would never escape. So she grieved in silence. For herself and for every life that would be lost because of Tom -his other name was too feared to be spoken- because surely the monster had tasted blood and would want more of it. Sometimes he looked at her and smiled. A crooked smile full of promises of pain and darkness. Her silence amused him -he was always amused, the world was his playground after all- as had her tears, her screams and her begging.

Time passed as it was wont to do. Ginny saw many things. Men and women clad in black cloaks and silver masks. Giants. Werewolves. Dementors -only Tom and her weren't affected by them, they do not feed on broken things- and even corpses rising from the grave. And they all bowed before him. Tom was pleased. It was a hollow victory when he broke the silence first. He started to talk to her about his plans, explain the terrible magic he would wield and what he would do to the people who opposed him. She never answered but she wasn't expected to. Now she was the diary and he fed her all he was. But unlike him she lacked the power to feed something back to him. As the world changed -baptised in blood and fire- only the greyness and Tom remained constant.

When he killed Dumbledore and cast the Dark Mark into the sky, a viridescent glow encompassed his ghostly companion. He remembered the chamber and how her red had contrasted with his green. Now she was only grey. In his euphoria he thought that he preferred her this way. When she cried -tears that weren't really there- he basked in her helplessness. He told her a story, she had heard it before when he was still only a boy -not a monster- and had written to her on yellowed pages. It was a fairy tale -the children at the orphanage loved fairy tales- where goodness and love triumphed over darkness and hate. But life was not a fairy tale and she had learned -too late- that the beast sometimes defeats the prince. So she dried her tears and prepared herself to rest in perpetual despair. She could tell that he was pleased with her.

When he killed Potter -it was easy, so easy- he decided to display his chopped off head in the Atrium of the Ministry. Life, power and victory. The world was in his palm. In the end he did not go. He wanted to spare her the sight. He had always considered himself merciful after all.

Very much against her will, Ginny found herself once again entranced by the boy with honeyed words and a deathly smile. But what was the harm? What could he possibly take from her that he hadn't already? So she sought the answer to the enigma that was Tom. And she broke her silence when she asked him why he did not go -to the desecration of an innocent boy's corpse- to the moment of his greatest triumph. But Tom had only smiled.

Over the years -how many she could not tell- his rule became absolute, like the stars fixed to the sky. Sometimes he would tell her of the fates -death, Azkaban, the kiss- of people she used to know and love. She did not know if he told her because he wanted to hurt her or because he considered it a kindness. Neither did he. One day they went to Hogwarts and he took her down into the chamber again. Full circle, the snake that bit its own tail. Now Tom only saw green, her red had faded long ago and not a trace was left of it in his chamber. Ginny only saw grey. And Tom. Always Tom.

It was on an ordinary day -days tended to be lost in a sea of grey and Tom- when he told her that the last member of her family had died. She was angry that she had no tears left and horrified that she felt only numbness. In remembrance of the last year of her life -when he had been her friend and confidant- she asked if he thought that her family would still love her, even if she was only a poor imitation of fiery, little Ginny. His laughter rumbled in his chest like thunder -or was it the monster growling- and he humoured her. While he did not consider himself an expert on the subject of love, Tom had observed many people who claimed to posses the emotion. He told her that they all insisted that love was unconditional and consequently her family should still love her. Maybe that was true, maybe it wasn't. Ginny and Tom would never know. There was no next great adventure for them.

When Ginny thought about love -Mum, Dad, Ron, Fred, George, Percy, Charlie, Bill, Harry, Hermione...- she sometimes asked herself if love was really unconditional. Then she would ask herself if one could learn to love a monster. Then she would stop thinking altogether because she might not like the answer.

One day the girl begged and pleaded with him again. It has been many years since she did. She asked him to find a way for her to pass on, a ritual, an exorcism. He refused.

Ginny had forgotten the faces of her loved ones. Only blurry images of freckles and red hair remained in her memory. The different faces melting together like water colours. Their voices had been lost to her long before that.

In another life, another time -and if he had the capacity in the first place- he could have learned to love her. But it would not have been her as she was now and maybe he would not have been interested in her at all then. He would have needed to be fundamentally different too. But circumstances, time and fate did not allow this. There were only maybes, what ifs and endless -impossible- possibilities. And so he kept her with him out of greed, out of spite and maybe out of longing. If he were different, Tom would have called them tragic.

Time had no mercy and went on. People came and went. Their names and faces vaguely reminding Ginny of people she used to know. But these people held no real interest for her. They were only poor imitations of the originals, like she was only a poor imitation of a girl called Ginny Weasley. By now she had forgotten what her own face looked like, forever staying as it was when she was -still alive- eleven. Only Tom's face remained unchanging.

Tom had ruled for many years now. The magical world was completely at his feet. The dreams he dreamed so, so many years ago became reality. Soon he would turn his eye to the muggle world. People came and went and only his ghost would stay forever.

Ginny Weasley had been afraid of death. So she left her ghost behind. Tom Riddle had been afraid of death. So he cut his soul into pieces. Ginny Weasley was no longer afraid of death. Tom Riddle still was. She could not go on and he would not let her. He refused to die and nobody could make him bow to death. Together they were reaching for eternity.


End file.
